


High

by MrMcLemons



Series: Rotten Fruit - A Collection of Far Cry Stories [2]
Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: A series of unfortunate events - Freeform, Biting, Blow Jobs, Chapter 2 is the smut, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, F/M, Hair Pulling, Hate Sex, Jealousy, Lawyer John Seed, Mentions of Sex, Possessive Behavior, Pre-cult, Reader is a poor college student, Rough Sex, Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy John Seed, Takes place in Georgia, Thumb-sucking, Unhealthy Relationships, and then a series of nasty events, gets serious real quick, starts off a crack fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 14:20:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18412394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrMcLemons/pseuds/MrMcLemons
Summary: Somehow you've got the richest lawyer in Georgia as your sugar daddy, and though you're more than happy to do whatever necessary to stay in his good graces sometimes shit just happens. And in those cases, apologies don't always cut it.(Under a rewrite)





	High

It was getting more difficult to explain why a sleek blue Porsche would wait for you on certain days when class dismissed, or why the man inside it somehow managed to look even nicer than his one-hundred thousand dollar car in freshly pressed Armani sleeves, also blue, despite appearing not a day over thirty. He was clean shaven and tattooed up and down his body, but no one could claim any of it was poorly done. John Duncan wasn’t a man of inferior tastes, and you sometimes questioned how that had come to include you.

That didn’t mean to say John didn’t express a clear sign that he saw room for improvement in your appearance. He made it very apparent from the beginning that there was a standard to be upheld when consorting with him, and you were a little too rough around the edges for his liking. Even though materialism isn’t what had propelled you into this relationship, John seemed to have endless stacks of cash ready to burn on remodeling your appearance.

You remembered the first brunch call he’d taken you on. For three hours prior you’d panicked over what to wear, being a college student didn’t offer extra cash to spend on a fancified wardrobe, and though you usually didn’t care about appearance this was anything but a usual arrangement. So panicked away you did.

Still, when you’d arrived on the backseat of a cheap bike you’d borrowed from your roommate, skirt hitched high enough to reveal the skimpier edges of your underwear, John had appeared anything but impressed. Despite it being your best outfit he’d tugged at the edges and sneered in distaste, though you noticed the way his eyes had lingered on the exposed skin of your thighs before you’d resituated it. “Is the rest of your wardrobe this… rugged?”

You didn’t think it’d looked _that_ rugged, but you ham-headedly responded, “This is the best thing in my wardrobe.”

His chest heaved as if he was in visible pain, “That is something we’ll have to amend quickly.” He peers down at your shoes, his phone somehow sliding into his hand without you having noticed it, “You look a size nine,” you nodded dumbly and he smiled charmingly, the white gleam so bright it was almost glaring. “Intuition. I’ll have new shoes sent to your home after, if you’ll provide me an address.”

He probably meant to pose it question, but not an inkling of refusing even crossed your mind as you rattled off your P.O. box. As you did, you took a good long look at him and realized that you definitely looked underdressed. You’d though the affair of today’s brunch would be casual, but he was sporting an expensive silken vest over a blue button up and designer jeans. No doubt the shoes were of the same caliber. Compared to him you were lucky to be seen as gum plucked from the bottom of his shoes.

“Also, no more bike riding. If you need a ride you will call me, and I will either pick you up myself or have alternate transportation arranged. For your safety and my efficiency, of course.” He hadn’t stopped smiling, and even if you would’ve balked at the implication of what he was saying and the severity of control he already wished to hold over your life, you couldn’t help but admire how handsome he was. He was also rich. And quite good at fucking. “Understood?”

“Crystal clear.” You replied, shifting just enough so your foot brushed his under the table.

“That is, of course” He reached into his vest pocket, a piece of paper materializing from the striped material, “ – if you come to accept these conditions I’ve outlined. Nothing extraordinary, but a necessary evil given what is going to occur between us.”

His leg shifts to press into yours as the paper finds itself in your hands, and as you scan over it you’re not surprised to see most of the bulleted list is perfunctory to more serious issues… _should the partner chosen accept these conditions, any serious harm inflicted upon them cannot result in a lawsuit, as outlined_  - you paused mid-sentence, _serious harm? What the fuck is he going to try and do to me that could inflict ‘serious harm’?_ As silly as the thought was, you couldn’t help but think of _Fifty Shades of Gray_ to diffuse your nerves.

“It’s not meant to intimidate you, darling. You must understand this is necessary for both of our state of minds. I am just as much a responsible party as you. As meticulous as this might seem,” he waves at the paper in your hands, “should we wish to continue on the quickest course of action, this will easily settle any issues. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.”

“I understand,” you gulped, “I wasn’t expecting it, necessarily but – I do understand. You’re a lawyer.” You hesitate, “But, speaking of, do I need to consult one for this?”

It was only half of a joke, but he laughed heartily with his hand on his chest and your skin tingled at the warmth it stoked inside you. Your eyes were suddenly drawn to his beard, closely trimmed and just as dark as his hair. Beards didn’t always look professional in your opinion, but he managed to defy that sentiment near completely.

“You won’t need a lawyer for this dearest,” he grabbed your hand and ran his fingers gently over your own, _oh right you had asked him something._ “This isn’t legally binding, its just a safety net. A precaution to help us sleep better at night.”

“Right,” you look at where his finger traces your knuckles, hoping he doesn’t notice how hard you’re sweating. “I couldn’t afford a lawyer anyways.”

“That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?” His smile was so sharp it was almost lethal. It disarmed you, and he could’ve stabbed you in the chest and twisted the knife and you still would’ve stared enraptured at his face. “All I ask is for your obedience, your passion – give yourself to me, and anything your heart desires… I will offer it happily to you. You won’t want for anything so long as you’re mine.”

There’s a name for this sort of thing – _too good to be true_ – but you can’t help but descend into the blue of his eyes and forget about the danger of falling into this sort of trap. Things this beautiful can’t possibly inflict harm upon the willing. If it can, then they are scars you’d be happy to bear.

“Okay,” you grabbed his hand back, “Yes, I mean. I’ll do it.”

His voice was a purr when he responded, “Perfect.”

If you’d had any reservations about signing your soul to the devil, the contract had left your mind the moment you were in his car. The windows were tinted enough to where anyone looking in wouldn’t see that your legs were thrown over his shoulders, or that his mouth was devouring you as if he hadn’t just eaten a delicious brunch. You understood why he’d denied the waitress dessert when she’d asked, but that also seemed a faraway thought as he mouthed you to a glorious high on the plush leather. When he opted to drive you home, you unbuttoned his pants and had your mouth halfway down his cock before you left the parking spot. It was definitely illegal, but his hands coaxing you down to accept it further was anything but convincing you to stop. So much for being a lawyer.

Somewhere along the way you had redirected to his penthouse, and by the time you arrived he was hard again and the deal had been sealed before you’d made it to his bedroom.

The next two days saw significant change in smaller aspects of your life – furnished wardrobe, new phone, rent paid in advance for three glorious months. Being doted upon was a new feeling, but not having to worry about financial details was relieving.

Also, the sex was fantastic.

In his best mood John was an attentive lover, very vocal and oh-so experimental in his pursual of your pleasure. In his fouler moods he was deviant; unable to be satisfied and constantly rough in both wisp of tongue and physicality. You carried the bruises to prove it, but they were never not worth it.

After three weeks he took you to dinner and you saw an upgrade to your apartment and were given a black card linked to an account he’d built just for you. He fingered you before dessert and then you sucked him off in the alleyway beside the restaurant before the valet brought his car around.

Quickly you figured out what John liked. For starters, he was a stickler for punctuality and all types of appearances, which somehow meant subtly but also absolutely no subtly (John Duncan knew not what the word subtly meant). He liked you best on your back so he could stare at your face as he thrust into you, hands clinging to him like a lifeline and knees pressed back against your chest so he could thrust deeper and hit the best angle. He took you over his counter, on his desk at work, before his fireplace, on his bed, in his car. John wanted you to know that your body was his, and sometimes if a man stared too long he felt the need to remind you right there of that fact again.

You knew he was a jealous man and very keen on approval though he was loath to admit it. He wanted you with him, worshipping him, relying on him, and doing whatever he pleased. He wanted you to _need_ him. He was clingy like that, desperate for attention in and out of bed.

Between the sheets it was undeniably worse. He was not only insatiable but also always desperate for more, though you were more than happy to provide. He bit and scratched and worshipped every bit of blood he drew from your body as much as he enjoyed the pleasure. John marked you as his, constantly whispered harsh words as he rut into you and made you promise things that you couldn’t dare say in the daylight. He drew that part out of you, and you were beginning to wonder how much of this to you  was for his money anymore and how much it was for another taste of _him_.

He was addictive, and even though you knew he was addicted to you as well, it was terrifying to be hooked on someone so euphoric when his intentions felt shallow. But then again, so were yours.

You tried not to dwell on your more negative thoughts about the arrangement. Whatever his intentions may be, your life had improved drastically since he’d entered it and you had no desire to back out anytime soon. Even as the heat from your friends grilling grew hotter, you didn’t back off. Sure he took up a lot more of your time than any previous boyfriends did, but even if you weren’t with him romantically he’d satisfied you in more ways than a man could dream of. Maybe even ruined you in part.

Today you walked out of Psych with a group of three of your friends, who you planned to study with for the final in the aforementioned class. After a teetering grade on the midterm it was an absolute necessity to bump it up higher by acing the final.

As you walked across the grassy lawn of campus, the blue Porsche was absent as was the man behind it. You knew why, but your friends also seemed to notice the detail.

Trevor slung his arm around your shoulder, “Where’s Boy Blue at? Not here to pick up his favorite girl?”

“It’s Thursday.” You replied simply, eyeing him.

He looked confused, “So?”

“He doesn’t pick me up on Thursdays, he has meetings that run late usually.”

Trevor cackled and poked at their other friends, “Aw, hear that? No dinner date tonight for you! Guess you can’t get your lucky lay in before that big test tomorrow.”

You elbow him in the gut, “Shut up, asshole.”

“Oh, let me have some fun. This is the fifth Patagonia t-shirt you’ve worn this week for Christ’s sake, no one owns that many Patagonia shirts in Georgia unless their parents are rich or they’ve got a smokin’ boyfriend with cash stacks bigger than his dick.”

You smirked, “I don’t know about that… his dick is pretty big…”

They all laughed, but Trevor was right. Patagonia was one of John’s favorite brands, and you found it on your shoulders way more than was usual for a typical drowning-in-debt undergrad. No one commented anymore about him, even though you knew that, besides Trevor, Frank and Alicia weren’t too big of fans of John Duncan.

You all got take out and brought it back to your place. Ever since you’d gotten the new hot spot apartment it was the main hangout, but that also meant you had to scramble to hide certain things before your friends could notice them. You did not need anyone commenting on the amount of torn lingerie or belts that were laying around the apartment, thank you very much.

Alicia left because of a family emergency, but you promised to send her what you, Trevor, and Frank compiled after working through everything. You’re about halfway done with the course syllabus when you realize you haven’t seen your phone in a while, nor heard it. John usually texts you between meetings, sometimes complaining but most often just wanting some conversation to drag his ego from one boring hour and through the next. Sometimes he’d too busy to text, but its unlike him not to say anything at all.

You pat around your thighs. Trevor’s asleep on your couch and there’s four empty Starbucks drinks you had doordashed about an hour ago on the coffee table, but you don’t see it anywhere and your urgency isn’t great. If John texted you then you would’ve known, because you always had the ringer on and no matter where it was you would’ve heard it.

Still, you called for Frank when you heard someone moving around in the kitchen. “Frank?”

“Yeah?”

Your hands are still patting around, when you hit Trevor’s leg he groans but dopesn’t wake up. “Where’s my phone at?” He makes a noise that sounds like ‘no’, but its hard to tell because he’s probably stuffing his face with more of your food. “What’d you say?”

“I said – I don’t know.”

“Okay,” you look under the couch and half-heartedly move some of the cushions and papers, not trying to undo any of the worth. “can you call it then?”

“That won’t work, I turned your phone on do not disturb.”

Your entire body froze at his words, jarring you so suddenly that for a second the air caught in your throat and you had to cough to dislodge it. Panic prickled at your limbs, and you felt as if you were going to be sick.

Your voice came out scratchy, “You what?”

Frank appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, a sandwich in his hand, “Johnny-boy texted you while you were in the bathroom, wouldn’t shut up so I texted him back that you were studying and turned off your phone.” He chewed and amended himself, “Turned it on do not disturb – whatever.”

 _Fuck. Holy fuck._ Your hands were shaking as you threw around the papers, tugging at the sheets and pushing Trevor off the couch despite his short _Hey!_ in protest. “When was this?”

“About an hour ago? I don’t know.”

“And you didn’t think to fucking tell me?”

Your hands are between the cushions, ripping back pillows and blankets. There went the fucking syllabus, but all you could think about was finding your phone and somehow amending the situation, however severe it may turn out to be.

_I ask very little of you but offer much in return. If I call, you answer. If I need you, then you will be there. I am a reasonable man, but I am not someone to be fooled. Then, I am not so forgiving. As much wealth and pleasure I give, I can return suffering tenfold at any moment._

The threat rang in your head as you found your phone, relief and anxiety clashing in a culmination that made you queasy with discomfort. Frank and Trevor were talking behind you, but you didn’t hear them as you scrolled through the notifications. It came in backwards, but the sheer amount of everything there was alarming.

 

**John Duncan**

_6 Missed Calls_

The string of texts was somehow worse.

 

_I am losing my patience. Pick up the phone now._

_I’ve cancelled the rest of todays meetings. Pick up._

_I do not take kindly to being ignored._

_Give her the phone now._

 

You opened the entire chat, scrolling back to the beginning. _Six o’clock. My place. Not a minute later._ The message itself wasn’t peculiarly short, but it was time stamped around 5:04, which was around right after you’d gotten the Starbucks drinks delivered and put it down. You checked the time now. 6:06.

You saw where Trevor and Frank had responded, with a blurry selfie of them and the aloof text, _sorry she can’t rn, studying,_ followed by a wealth of hear emojis and kissy faces.

You were so utterly fucked.

“…I don’t see what the big deal is, we’ve got a test tomorrow. Boy Blue will understand.”

Everything around you felt dangerously loud and intense, and you could taste your heart in your throat. _What if you lost this? What if you lost his support… lost_ him?

John lied when he’d said he was reasonable, but you knew the true fear in your heart was in the unspoken message that he was dangerous. He never told you directly, but you knew by his smile – by the way he wanted to possess you like you were a thing.

But you knew mostly because he made you like it. Made you want for more.

You stared at your phone as it lit up silently with another message.

 

_Open your door or there will be hell to pay._

There’s no movement in your limbs. Are Trevor and Frank still talking? You feel sick, so terribly sick and utterly afraid. How long has it been? Is he still at the door?

You heart stops for a moment and is replaced with the sound of banging from your front door. Then, his voice, sweeping through clearly like poison-coated candy. “Honey, I’m home! And we’ve much to discuss.”

**Author's Note:**

> Requested & posted on my Tumblr (glorygodngore).


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